From "Lycidas"
Farewell, shapely hills and land known to the nymphs, flowing fountains, caves hung above the fountains, and shadows of the woods, which aforetime brought me sweet idleness and love. . . .
Gentle music of the river shall hush me to sleep no more in the lap of the grasses. No more shall I carve love-songs for Amaryllis — she who of old twined lilies in scented garlands seated under the shady willows among her flocks, or soothed her limbs with gentle sleep. . . .
And you, O laurels, beneath whose fragrant shade my heart burned with strange fire and my reed-pipe blew Arcadian melody — may the careful Spring tend you, may no cold harm you, may no branch be spoiled of beauty.
Gentle music of the river shall hush me to sleep no more in the lap of the grasses. No more shall I carve love-songs for Amaryllis — she who of old twined lilies in scented garlands seated under the shady willows among her flocks, or soothed her limbs with gentle sleep. . . .
And you, O laurels, beneath whose fragrant shade my heart burned with strange fire and my reed-pipe blew Arcadian melody — may the careful Spring tend you, may no cold harm you, may no branch be spoiled of beauty.
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